


Car Trouble

by Miya_Morana



Series: Winter Retreat [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Hypothermia, M/M, Pack Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 18:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miya_Morana/pseuds/Miya_Morana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Derek and Stiles get stuck in a snowstorm, and Stiles gets cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Car Trouble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [entanglednow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/gifts).



> This one is for entangled_now who wanted hypothermia fic and deserves to get nice things! Also, big thanks to mithrel for the beta and her enthusiasm.

It had been Deaton’s idea, that whole “pack retreat” thing. Even though they’ve been more or less one big pack for about a year, there are still tensions and fights and distrusts between them all, and thank goodness the veterinarian is here to make them all see sense when things get bad. Him and Peter, however strange that is. Stiles doesn’t think that Derek would have been able to keep the pack whole without their input.

So when Deaton said the pack needed to take some time off to do some bonding somewhere they won’t be disturbed by any of the continuous supernatural drama that seems to invade Beacon Hills on a regular basis, Derek listened. He decided to also make it mandatory for the honorary pack members (i.e., Stiles, Lydia and even Allison, who was back together with Scott after months and months of guilt and angst).

Which is why Stiles is currently in the passenger seat of his Jeep with Derek behind the wheel (because the Alpha’s a control freak and doesn’t like it when someone else drives), on a dark road somewhere above Lake Tahoe, in the middle of a snowstorm.

Peter took Isaac, Erica and Boyd in the Camaro that morning, and they followed Jackson, Scott, Lydia and Allison to the nice, secluded chalet the Whittemores own in the Sierra Nevada. The Stilinskis had some cousins over from Sacramento for the holidays, which is why Stiles could only leave in the afternoon, and Derek… Well, Derek had to _work_ this morning. Because Derek’s finally gotten himself a real job at the public library, though it’s anyone’s guess how long he’ll manage to keep it when another supernatural emergency occurs and he starts missing his shifts.

Stiles is glad to have the Alpha with him, because he wouldn’t have liked to be behind the wheel in this weather. Derek’s eyesight and reflexes are much better than his, and he doesn’t seem to be having much trouble staying on the road in spite of the very low visibility.

“I hope we’re almost there, and that they prepared food, because I’m totally _starving_ ,” Stiles says, squinting to try and see something through the snow. They should have already arrived an hour ago, but the unexpected storm slowed them down. “Maybe I should call them and make sure we have warm delicious dinner waiting for us. And you know, tell them we’re not dead yet.”

Derek huffs in reply, a sound somewhere between amused and annoyed, and they take a sharp left and hit a bump in the road.

“Woah, careful dude, the Jeep’s not made for this kind of weather!”

“I know. You should really get a better car.”

“I’ll get right on that as soon as I win the lottery,” Stiles replies, and grins when he sees the corner of Derek’s mouth move up.

And then there’s a terrible whining sound coming from the engine and the car slows to a stop as the headlights flicker off.

“Oh shit. Oh, no no no! Please no.” Stiles is about to open his door when Derek puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Stay in, I’ll have a look at it.”

He doesn’t even bother putting on a warm coat or something before opening the door, letting a gust of cold air inside the car as he steps out. Stiles wraps his arms around himself and watches the werewolf open the hood to peer inside.

When Derek gets back into the car five minutes later, he looks angry and frustrated. He slams the door shut and digs through his pocket to grab his phone. Stiles tries to turn up the heating and realizes it’s dead too. That’s not good, not good at all.

“It’s me,” Derek says into the phone, and thank God they still have reception, because otherwise they would be so screwed right now. “The car’s broken down. You need to come pick us up, because there’s no way Stiles will make it on foot from here in this weather.” 

There’s a pause during which Stiles can hear Jackson complain, though he can’t make out his words, then Derek continues. “We passed the ski resort about twenty minutes ago, though I’m not sure where that puts us. We’ve been going slow because of the snow. Get here as fast as you can, but be careful.”

Derek hangs up then, and looks at Stiles, who’s still hugging himself in an attempt to keep warm.

“So I guess we wait, huh?” Stiles says with a sigh. “Great. I just hope they find us before we freeze to death. Well, before _I_ freeze to death, anyway, since you werewolves have that whole higher body temperature thing going on. I’ll probably already be an icicle when you finally start noticing the cold.”

“Do you have a warm coat or a blanket with you?” Derek asks with a frown.

“Didn’t really think we’d need a blanket in the Whittemores five star winter residence, you know?” Stiles replies. “Though now that I think of it, there might be an old one with the junk underneath the backseat. Where we keep the emergency flashlights and stuff.”

Derek nods and opens the door again, stepping out to get back in through the back door. He rummages under the seat using the faint light from his phone to see by and tosses a scratchy blanket at Stiles, who wraps it gratefully around his shoulders. Derek finds a couple of flashlights, but only one is working, so he leaves the other and pushes the box of random stuff back under the seat before coming back to sit in the driver seat.

“Thanks,” Stiles says.

Derek just nods, settling his hands on the wheel in front of him, like he’s just itching to be able to start driving again. The wind is blowing snow hard against Stiles’ door, and soon his window is completely obstructed. 

“It’s all my fault,” Stiles blurts out after a couple minutes of silence.

“How did you figure that?” Derek asks, raising an eyebrow. Stiles has tried practicing that move in the mirror, but his facial muscles apparently don’t work that way.

“I was all ‘the Jeep’s not made for this’, I totally jinxed us! It’s like when someone says ‘at least things can’t get worse than this’, and then something just awful happens. I should know better, really, I’m well aware of Murphy’s Law, Murphy’s Law and I are so close we could be drinking buddies.”

Derek sighs, rolling his eyes. “It’s not your fault, okay? It would have happened anyway. It’s like you said, this car wasn’t made to take hikes in the mountain in the middle of a snowstorm, and besides, it’s _old_. Now calm down.”

“‘Calm down’?” Stiles repeats. “Do you even know me? I’m never calm, I ramble, that’s the way I deal with stuff!”

“I noticed.”

“So what, I feel the need to fill the silence with mindless talk, it makes it easier on me, so please give me that much. It won’t last long anyway, I can already feel my teeth are about to start chattering any minute now, and I then won’t be able to ramble like that. What?”

Derek is looking at him like he’s worried, which, yeah, okay, they’re friends now, but it’s still not something Stiles is used to seeing. Because usually when Derek is worried about him he shoves him against a wall and starts lecturing him about putting himself in harm’s way. Violence is still Derek’s go-to way to express his feelings, even though he’s made _some_ progress in that department. 

“Nothing,” Derek replies eventually, turning his eyes back to the dark road in front of them.

Stiles goes back to his rambling after that, getting a few words in response from the sour werewolf now and then. He eventually falls silent when his teeth indeed start chattering. The cold slowly insinuates itself through the blanket, through his coat and his clothes. His fingers are stiff where they hold the blanket closed, and he’s starting to feel sleepy.

“Stiles!” Derek’s voice is urgent, and there’s a hand shaking him. “Don’t fall asleep Stiles, stay with me!”

“I’m awake,” he groans through his teeth. “So cold…”

Derek bites his lip, and that sign of hesitation is so human, so not Derek, that Stiles frowns, opens his mouth to make a comment about it, but all that comes out is the sound of his chattering teeth.

“Come here,” Derek decides, prying Stiles’ hands off the blanket. 

For a moment it gets even colder, and then Derek’s dragging him on his lap, and he’s pressed against an incredibly warm chest, warm hands dragging the blanket over them then rubbing his back through his coat. Stiles buries his face in the crook of Derek’s neck, wraps his arms around the werewolf’s waist. His frozen hands worm their way under Derek’s jacket and shirt, seeking the warmth of his skin.

“Damn you’re cold!” Derek almost jumps at the touch of his fingers. 

“Told you,” Stiles replies against his neck.

He’s feeling better already. Derek’s warmth is seeping into him, and Stiles desperately wants more, wants to get closer. He squirms in Derek arms, manages to unzip his coat so that there are fewer layers between them when he presses their chests together and gets his hands back underneath Derek’s shirt. Derek makes a small noise, like he’s uncomfortable, but then he’s slipping his arms inside Stiles’ open coat and rubbing his back through his shirt, and it’s so warm and perfect that Stiles sighs against Derek’s skin.

Derek is rubbing his cheek against Stiles’ hair, and it should be weird but it isn’t, it’s just warm and _nice_. Then the werewolf’s hands sneak under his shirts, and his warm skin is touching Stiles’, and if Stiles moans a little then it’s really not his fault. He wriggles again in the hope of somehow getting even closer to Derek and hears the Alpha take in a sharp breath, his hands going still against Stiles’ back.

Oh. 

So, it turns out, Derek is hard. Not rock hard, by the feel of it against Stiles’ thigh, but on its merry way there. Stiles freezes on the spot, not sure what to do or say. Or think, for that matter, because wow, that was not expected.

“Sorry,” Derek grits out.

“It’s okay,” Stiles breathes against Derek’s neck, trying for noncommittal. Blasé. It sounds more like permission though, or maybe an invitation, even to his own ears.

Derek’s hands start moving again after a little while, warm and careful and perfect. Stiles doesn’t dare to move though. Now that the cold is mostly gone thanks to Derek’s freakish body heat, and now that he’s aware of Derek’s, well, _predicament_ , he can’t help but notice how intimate their position is.

And okay, maybe on some occasions Stiles has fantasized about Derek, because he’s not _blind_ and the Alpha is ridiculously attractive with all his broodiness and his perfect muscles, but he never really gave it serious thought, because it’s Derek, and Derek would never look at him twice. Except that there’s a hard line pressed against him that would beg to differ, and Stiles is just a teenager, so it’s really not his fault if his body starts to respond to the warm caress of Derek’s hands.

It is totally his fault, however, when he starts moving his own hands underneath Derek’s shirt, his fault when he presses a tentative kiss against Derek’s neck, marveling at the fact that Derek’s letting him.

“Stiles…” It’s an exhale of warm air, like a happy sigh, Derek’s hands pressing more firmly into his skin.

Stiles raises his head, looks into Derek’s clear eyes, almost green in the light of the flashlight. They stare at each other, then Derek leans in. His mouth is warm against Stiles’. They take their time, discovering each other’s lips before Derek darts his tongue out and Stiles opens up for him.

Stiles start exploring Derek’s chest with his hands, caressing his strong abs then sliding up to press his palms against the werewolf’s pecs, dragging Derek’s shirt up as he goes. Derek’s fingers dip under his waistband, fingertips pressing into the skin of Stiles’ ass, and Stiles moans into Derek’s mouth.

“Oh my god!”

Stiles jumps, breaking the kiss and turning his head to face a horrified Scott through Derek’s window. Neither of them had apparently noticed the headlights of the approaching car, nor heard the sound of the two werewolves walking up to the Jeep, though that last bit might have been because of the wind.

Stiles is about to squirm off Derek’s lap, but the strong arms still wrapped around him keep him firmly in place. Derek is looking at Peter with an unreadable expression until Peter lowers his eyes with a smirk. Ooo-kay then.

Derek zips Stiles’ coat back up before opening the door. The cold wraps around Stiles immediately, and he hurries to the four-wheel drive that must belong to Jackson’s parents. The heat is turned on strong in the car, for his benefit no doubt, and he watches the werewolves quickly transfer his and Derek’s bags to the car’s trunk before climbing into the vehicle.

Derek slides on the backseat next to Stiles, who looks at him in surprise. He was expecting him to take the wheel like he always does, but instead he sits there with him, wrapping an arm around Stiles’ shoulders to tug him against his side. Stiles sneaks an arm behind Derek’s back, putting his hand on Derek’s waist and relishing the warmth of him.

Scott twists in the passenger seat to look at them while Peter turns the car around. He looks a little like a lost puppy, and Stiles thinks it’s kind of adorable, even though he knows he’s blushing. 

“So, I guess we’ll have to come back to get the car when the storm is past?” he asks to break the awkward silence.

“Um, yeah,” Scott replies, his eyes flickering between Derek’s arm around Stiles and Stiles’ hand on Derek’s waist. “Whenever that is. We caught the weather forecast and it doesn’t look good.”

“Great,” Stiles groans. “My Jeep is never going to survive spending several days in the cold and the snow. Please tell me at least that there is warm food waiting for us at Jackson’s?”

Scott laughs, shaking his head, and that makes Stiles smile.

“Yeah, when we left Isaac and Boyd were arguing about seasoning.”

“Good. Perfect!” Stiles says, because those two boys in the kitchen could only come up with something delicious.

The rest of the drive is still a little bit awkward in spite of Stiles’ attempts to fill the silence. When no one is watching, Derek nuzzles his neck or smiles softly at him, and Stiles grins back. Once, he presses a small kiss just behind Derek’s ear, but suddenly both Scott’s eyes and Peter’s are watching them in the rearview mirror, so he blushes and doesn’t do it again.

They park the car in a huge garage, next to Derek’s Camaro. Peter and Scott grab their bags in the trunk and the four of them make their way to the door that must lead inside the house. Derek is walking right behind him, and Stiles thinks he can feel the heat of his body even though they’re not touching.

He knows they’re probably going to have some talking to do at some point, to figure out where they’re going and all that, but right now Stiles doesn’t care. He steps sideways after going through the door and lets the back of his hand brush Derek’s in a silent invitation. Derek takes it, entwining their fingers as the rest of the pack greets them.


End file.
